


Driving Miss Millie

by Arya_Greenleaf



Series: Huxloween & (K)inktober 2016 [4]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, Dolls, Huxloween, Kissing, M/M, Skeletons, Taxidermy, Top Armitage Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: On the road to retrieve an articulated skeleton to complete an important feature of Armitage's bony collection, revelations are had about the nature of his relationship with Ben and how the Commandant may feel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Some spoilery warnings about Brendol's perspective on relationships and alliances built through them, Armitage's bone collection, and how the prompts have been encorporated in the end notes.
> 
> Again, this is a fusion of [Huxloween & (K)inktober fusion](http://avaahren.tumblr.com/post/151128365869/kawaiiloren-ivanhoenineteenninetyfour) this time covering _hungry, bukkae, and dolls._

“’Tige.”

Armitage groaned and turned over. A life of keeping the Commandant’s schedule, a youth misspent in the strict timetable of boarding-school living by his own account, had not made him any more amenable to waking up before he was ready. The warmth of Ben’s bed, the smell of his skin everywhere, the threadbare-softness of the mound of quilts piled over their bodies, and the relative darkness of the room behind heavy flannel curtains were too much incentive to ignore the beckoning of the day—even when that beckoning came in the form of Ben whispering sweetly against square of his jaw.

“’Tige.”

“No.”

“’ _Tige_.”

“I’m not getting up, Ben.”

“’Tige!”

Armitage threw the covers back and blinked into the hazy light peeking around the edges of the curtains. “What do you want? I was having a very pleasant dream.”

“Your phone has been going off for the last hour. You’ve had like four emails, six texts, and a missed call.”

“If it’s Snoke then I don’t care. He can wait until Tuesday. If it’s the Commandant then I’m screwed.”

“It wasn’t his ringtone.” Ben picked up the phone from the bedside table and squinted at the bright screen. “It’s… Nessa? Who’s Nessa?” He frowned at the screen and slid back down against the pillows.

Armitage perked up, putting his hand out eagerly for the device and pushing himself up against the wall. His legs swung across Ben's waist and feet dangling over the side of the bed, Ben ran his fingers through downy ginger hair on his shins and twisted it teasingly. Armitage’s disposition grew sunnier by the moment scrolling through his messages. “Get dressed.”

Ben turned onto his side under his’s bent knees and wrapped heavy arms around a slender waist. “I thought we were sleeping in today.”

“Plans have changed. We’ll sleep in tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to get dressed.”

“Well then you don’t have to come. I just go on my own.” He squirmed out of the firm embrace and rushed on tip-toe across the chilled floor to the bathroom. Ben laid there listening to the sounds of the shower starting up for several moments, biding his time until the water had sufficiently warmed before he shuffled into the bathroom as well. “Changed your mind then?”

“Maybe.”

“Up for a drive?”

“I’ll order the Uber. My rating is better than yours.”

“Stars, no, that would be an arm and a leg.” Armitage reached up and worked honey-scented shampoo into Ben’s hair until it he’d whipped it into a thick lather. “We’ll go back to my place and take the beamer. We could stay the night, drive back tomorrow.”

Ben ducked under the warm spray, trading places and flinching when a soapy hand slipped between his legs. Armitage laughed. The uncharacteristic handsy-ness, the giddy twinge in his voice—something wasn’t right. Armitage wasn’t a particularly morose person but neither was he particularly jovial.

Ben gulped, thinking of C-SPAN and gently moving Armitage’s hand away. “What about your dad?”

“What about him?”

“He—didn’t he get home from his trip yesterday? Your—his wife too?”

“Are you worried about him?”

“You said he has _rules_ , ‘Tige. I don’t want to get you into trouble.” Ben still didn’t quite understand and Armitage had been reluctant to say much.

“I’m not forbidden from using the family vehicle, Ben. The Commandant… he… he just doesn’t need to know I have a passenger. It’s not as if I’ve never spent a night away from home before.”

“I—“ Armitage looked so desperately earnest, hair curled in tendrils that moved with the rivulets of water over his forehead. “Where are we going?”

Armitage grinned, “Upstate.”

“What the kriff is upstate?”

“Nessa.”

Ben turned the shower off and pushed his hands through his hair, squeegeeing water from it as he went. “Again—who the hell is that?”

Armitage pushed the curtain aside and stretched as he stepped out of the tub, “A bone contact.”

“A _what_?”

He turned, wrapping a towel around his waist and rubbing one over his head. “She found the Beauchene skull for me—the one with all the bits separated? The real one, not the plaster. I met her at that horror convention last year.” He draped the towel over his shoulders like a cloak and plucked his toothbrush from the cabinet. “Really, Ben, keep up.”

“I’ve never heard of her before,” he grumbled, reaching over Armitage’s shoulder. Dripping and bare, he stood behind him and brushed his own teeth with just a touch too much force. Crouching under Armitage’s arm, he spat and tossed the toothbrush onto the edge of the sink. “I’ll order an Uber anyway. I don’t really feel like spending the next three hours on public transit just to get back to your place and turn around again.”

Sullen and silent in the back of the immaculately clean SVU that arrived at Ben’s apartment, Armitage tried to engage him with little success beyond the occasional grunt of affirmation. Ben folded his arms and drew his bulky sweater tighter around himself, denying that he was cold when the driver asked. His overnight bag slid back and forth across the floor of the trunk as they navigated through the tight streets of the city and eventually across the water and into the Huxes’ neighborhood. Armitage cleared his throat, “Excuse me?” The driver looked up into the mirror and slowed at a red light. “Do you see that bus shelter just ahead?” They did. “You could drop us there if you like.”

“You sure? The address I have is—“

“Yes, the bus stop is perfectly fine.”

“Alright then.” They eased into the bus lane and pulled toward the shelter.

“Wouldn’t want to upset _the Commandant_.”

Armitage flared beet-red, “You shut up, Ben Solo. You don’t know a damn thing.”

“How can I? You—“

The driver, clearly uncomfortable, cleared their throat in the front seat. “Would you like me to open the trunk or can you reach your bag?”

Armitage apologized and pulled bills out of his wallet, tipping the driver extra in his embarrassment while Ben reached over the back of the seat and yanked his bag forward. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Have a nice afternoon.”

Armitage waited for the driver to turn the corner and disappear before speaking again. “What the _fuck_ is your problem?”

“I feel—I feel like—We’re sneaking around, ‘Tige. We’re sneaking around and I don’t like it.”

“We are not sneaking around.”

“Then why are we standing at a bus stop instead of at your front door? Why can’t your father know I’m driving upstate with you? I thought… I thought you said I wasn’t your first boyfriend, ‘Tige, what is going _on_?”

“I said you weren’t the first boy I’ve had in my bed.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“Oh, _please_ —“

“Does your father not know, ‘Tige?”

“Don’t be foolish, of course he knows.”

“If you’re out then why—“

“He knows I like men, that's not the problem. It’s more complicated than that.”

“’Tige, I don’t understand what—“

“I don’t want to talk about this, Ben. Just…” Armitage seemed to deflate. “Not now.”

Ben looked down at his feet, “I’ll wait here then.”

“Thank you.” He ducked his head and pecked a kiss against Ben’s cheek. “I’ll be back in thirty, tops.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Armitage walked the ten minute distance from the bus stop to his house in seven, keeping his pace just suitable enough to not draw attention to his urgency. He grimaced as he approached the front of the house, noting his step-mother’s car in the drive and his father’s office lights on even in the bright mid-morning sun. “Father?” he called out as he walked in the door, keys jingling in his hand as if to announce himself.

The Commandant appeared in the hall, a cup of coffee in hand, “Armitage. I thought you might be the housekeeper.”

“No, it’s just me.”

The Commandant nodded curtly and turned the corner to head back up the stairs.

“Father, I—“

“Don’t hesitate. It’s unbecoming.”

“Yes, sir.” Armitage tightened his hands into fists at his side, nails digging half-moons into his palms grounding him.

“Out with it, boy.”

“I’d like to take the car for a couple of days. I’ve had some information about completing my feline articulation. The seller is located upstate—past Albany. I thought I might stay the night.”

“Reliable seller?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve purchased from her previously.”

“And all of your other responsibilities can sufficiently be put to rest before you leave?”

“They have, sir. I submitted my most recent pages to Dr. Snoke last night.”

“Spent the night at the library again?”

“Yes, sir.” The Commandant nodded and sipped his coffee, turning his attention more fully to the glowing computer screen at his desk. “I stayed until closing and then took my work to a diner.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. They’d stayed at the diner drinking awful coffee and eating the last of the day’s slices of pie for half-off until close to two. He nodded again.

“How is the thesis coming?”

“Well, sir.”

“And Snoke, he’d say the same?”

“I am confident that he would.”

“Is he still mentoring that frivolous _philosophy_ student?”

Armitage cleared his throat and placed his hands behind his back, parade rest. He clenched his fists. “Yes, sir. There’s quite a bit of intersection between—“

“I’m not interested in all that, Armitage. So long as you don’t get silly with it.”

“Of course, sir.”

The Commandant regarded him closely over the rim of his coffee cup. Ben had been wrong, of course, Armitage _did_ resemble his father. Around the eyes. It was unsettling at times, looking into the mirror and seeing that same shrewd expression staring back at him. He set the cup down and relaxed in his chair. “You’ll have to get gas before you get on the road. And check in when you’re there, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Have you made reservations for a hotel?”

“Not yet. I thought I’d see what was nearby.”

The Commandant narrowed his eyes but nodded again regardless. “Drive safely, Armitage.”

“I always do, sir, thank you.”

His heart fluttered wildly in his chest as he threw clothing into a duffle bag and carefully packed Millicent into the shipping box she’d arrived in nearly a year ago. “You’ll be complete again soon, my dear. Just have to weather the travel and make sure you fit properly on your new shoulders.” He smiled to himself, rubbing his thumb up and down against the smooth swath of the nasal and frontal bones between large orbits. “It’ll almost be like getting away from here—with Ben.” He carefully placed the skull into the carved out piece of packing foam. “At least until we have to come back. Won’t that be nice?”

Armitage shook his head and placed the other half of the foam into the box and closed the lid. With it tucked under his arm, he slung his bag over his shoulder and bounded down the steps two at a time.

“Armitage?”

He stumbled, nearly toppling as he stopped halfway down the stairs. “Yes, father?”

“Take a heavier coat. It’s cold upstate this time of year.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot up when Armitage pulled toward the bus stop. The car was a sleek color he’d later learn was _Imperial Blue_ , the hubcaps a blur of sharp spokes as it moved. “It really is a beamer.”

Armitage laughed and opened the door, unfolding himself from the seat after popping the trunk. He took Ben’s bag from him, dropping it inside, and rounded the back of the vehicle to open the passenger side door. “After you.”

Ben frowned, suspicious. “What happened in there?”

“Nothing. I’m just excited.” Armitage dropped back into the driver’s seat and clipped his belt on. Ben, though not totally foreign to the concept of luxury, was overwhelmed by the heady scent of leather and the glint of the dark wood finishes inside the car. Armitage flicked through menus on is phone until it connected with the car’s radio. “Is that not allowed?” He grinned and pressed his foot to the gas pedal, surprising Ben with the speed he used to peel away from the curb.

Two hours into their drive, Armitage pulled over on a quiet stretch of road to rest. A weekday and well before any rush hour, they hadn’t seen another car in some time.

“Ben?”

“Yeah, ‘Tige.”

“I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It was my fault.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like. You… your parents… they’re far from the most attentive—that much is perfectly clear—but they accept you for who you are.”

“For the most part, yeah.”

“You get to do what you want. Live how you want. Study what you want. Be with the people you want to be with even if they are utterly ridiculous shams of academics.”

“Within reason, yeah. They do have certain expectations.”

Armitage nodded, he’d gleaned enough from Ben’s few stories about himself, about his summers at Ahch-To, to understand his meaning. “I live fairly well off. I’m taken care of. School is paid for, I’ve got a roof over my head, food in my belly. I want for nothing. But... I don’t know. I’m isolated.”

“’Tige, do you sneak around because—“

“I _don’t_ sneak around. The Commandant knows perfectly well that I have a… that I’m… He knows.”

“About us.”

“Yes. Somewhat.”

“And he doesn’t approve.”

“I didn’t say that.” Ben started to ask if it was because he was a man. “No, the Commandant… he doesn’t care who I have a relationship with. He’d just prefer that I didn’t have one at all. At least not one that didn’t provide some kind of advantage.”

“What are you talking about?”

“To him, relationships are strategic political moves. Like planning a game on a chessboard. Before we came here, when he actually _was_ the Commandant, it was part of life. Something I just took for granted.” Armitage gripped the steering wheel and stared out the windshield.

“He set me up with this girl once. Lovely, really. And an excellent lay for two people without a clue what they were doing.” He snorted, amused at his own remembrance. “She was the eldest of some well-connected Captain or another, someone with quite a bit of upward potential. We got to be very good friends but when the Commandant expected me to give her my class ring, I couldn’t do it. Neither one of us wanted to be trapped like that, we both knew what that ugly hunk of tin meant.” Ben listened with a concerned expression.

“When I didn’t pursue a military career, when I chose to go to college instead, he was furious. He adapted his plans quickly, though. It came around the same time that Arkanis was in danger of losing its funding, the board had asked him to step down. I did a lighter class load that first semester, transferred when we moved here.”

“’Tige—“

“Let me finish.” Ben nodded and silenced himself. “My first spring break, the Commandant took the opportunity to take the family on a trip, try to establish some new contacts. He found out through the grapevine that some important people were vacationing in Los Vegas at the time, so we went out there. He left me mostly to my own devices, only really needed me for dinners and things to make a nice family portrait. He hated every moment of it, but here he was nobody so he had to endure what he saw as frivolity. I was lonely. So, on our second to last night there I got myself exceptionally drunk by the pool and brought a young man who I’d become friendly with during the week back to our suite. The Commandant’s wife walked in on us. It was quite embarrassing for everyone involved.”

“And then—“

“And then the Commandant introduced me to some governor’s son. We went out a few times, but his father didn’t push through a bill that would have benefited mine and I was told to break it off.”

“’Tige.”

Armitage shrugged, “Who I’m attracted to doesn’t make a difference to him. I suppose... I haven’t had that struggle the way other people have. It’s just… it’s all chess moves. And rather convenient for him that I enjoy the company of both men and women. It’s positively barbaric and utterly medieval but it’s also all I’ve ever known. I think that—I think that I just don’t want you to be tainted by all of that. By his gameplay.”

They sat in silence for several tense moments. Armitage picked up his phone and fired off a text. _STOPPING FOR SUPPER._ The Commandant would question the extra time on the road otherwise.

Ben picked at some pilling on the sleeve of his sweater. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making assumptions.”

“It’s alright. I didn’t do much to keep you from making them.”

“Am I a chess move?”

“Stars, no. At least not one of his.”

“I’m politically connected.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t like your mother.”

“Her policies?”

“Not necessarily. He’s agreed that some are quite sound in spite of himself.” Armitage began to laugh. “He just finds her very unpleasant.” Ben laughed as well, the two of them moving from nervous titters to real mirth. The tension in the cockpit of the car began to dissipate. “Ben, what I said is true.”

“What?”

Armitage unclipped his seatbelt and leaned across, turning Ben’s face toward him. “If I didn’t like you so much, I’d be able to talk about it more. All of it.” Ben pressed their lips together sweetly, caressing the hand on his cheek. “I guess I don’t want to scare you off.”

“A shitty home-life isn’t going to scare me off. I’ve got just as many skeletons.” He shrugged, looking away without moving his head. “Maybe more. Or not more, but different. Big ones.” Armitage fisted his hands in Ben’s sweater, pulling him in and kissing him soundly. “Hey, whoah! I’m chokin’—“ Ben pulled away and unfastened his seatbelt. “That’s better.” He smiled softly and waggled his eyebrows suggestively in Armitage’s direction.

They resumed their kissing, warm palms and cold fingers roaming through hair and over shoulders and under clothing. Ben leaned back, head bumping against the window, and yanked his sweater over his head, undershirt snagging and going with it until he righted it. “Fuck, that thing is itchy.” He tossed it into the back seat and pressed forward again, broad hand on Armitage’s thigh and plush lips turning hard against his. Ben shivered and sighed when Armitage touched his bare arms.

“I want you so badly.”

Ben laughed, “Now?” He gasped, Armitage palming him through his jeans.

“Right now.”

Ben’s lashes fluttered, a hot mouth against his throat. “But this is—and we don’t—and I need— _fuck_.”

“Yeah?” Armitage shrugged awkwardly out of his coat, shoving it toward the back as well and abruptly moving his seat back. Ben nodded, hurriedly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. Armitage gaped, “Get—get out of those.”

Ben yelped in surprise when Armitage opened the door, a rush of cold air flooding the car. He slammed it shut and ran around to the back, digging hurriedly through his bag and then flattening himself against the side of the car as another whizzed by. He ducked back in to find Ben with a flush spreading down over his chest, socks and underwear still on; his legs pressed together and his face hidden in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Ben looked up at him, his face mottled pink with arousal and his eyes wide with fear. “This car—“ Armitage kissed him, condom wrapper crinkling in his hand, tube of lubricant falling into Ben’s lap. “You certainly came prepared.”

“Did you think I’d pass up a night with you entirely uninterrupted?”

Ben laughed breathily. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Come here.”

Ben gasped, greedy hands grabbing at his hips and pulling him awkwardly over the center console. He tensed, chilly fingers pressing into the cleft of his ass through his underwear. “Mm—wait. Just wait, I’ll…” He shifted and wiggled until he was out of his shorts, hands covering himself awkwardly and leaning onto his hip as if trying to avoid touching the seat.

Armitage pulled him in, kissing him with a frown evident in his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“This car—and the rules… I don’t know if I can do this and _you’re_ not even—“

“We’re in the middle of nowhere on I-87. I don’t give a fuck about his rules or expectations.”

“You are so _confusing!_ ”

“Ben, I just vomited up some of my heaviest baggage. I’m on a road trip in a comfortable car with someone I care about. I am the most relaxed I’ve been in weeks.” He kissed him, soft. “I don’t mean to be confusing.”

Ben sighed and crouched over, trying to avoid hitting his head on the roof of the car while he maneuvered his legs across the console and settled astride Armitage’s lap. They laughed, the horn whining when he leaned on it inadvertently. “Just get these goddamn pants off.”

Slippery fingers pressed against his hole, the car horn sounding in short bursts until he leaned forward, forehead resting against Armitage’s shoulder and hands clumsily working at his belt and fly.

“That’s fuckin’ cold, ‘Tige. _Ahh.”_

“Let me in and it’ll warm up,” Armitage purred, his voice thick as honey while Ben’s hands rubbed his chest firmly through layers of sweater and shirt, abandoning his attempts to divest Armitage of his pants. He swore, his stomach fluttering in anticipation when his middle finger disappeared easily into the heat of Ben’s body.

“Slow, ‘Tige, slow— _hnng_.” He angled his body forward forehead moving from Armitage’s shoulder to the edge of the seat, sliding up and off of the slender digit, a clean hand clenched tightly on his hip. “Been a wh- _hille_.” He bore down, a second finger going in comfortably and soon enough after, a third. “Fuck. _Fuck_ , I’m cold. Get—get on with it—that’s enough, ‘Tige.”

With shaky hands he reached between their bodies, finally succeeding in opening Armitage’s pants and reaching inside.

“Dammit, your hands!”

Ben laughed, breathless, fingers still moving inside of him. “Told you I was cold.” He fumbled for the condom on the opposite seat, struggling to open the wrapper and then roll it down, swearing when he realized he’d been attempting to do it inside out. Finally righted, he braced a knee against the center console and the door, lifting his bulk and lowering back down with a drawn out groan.

They moved, awkward in the tight space of the driver’s seat though unwilling to separate to better their position at all. Armitage’s hands were insistent on Ben’s ass—his sides—his arms—his thighs—hands tangling in his hair—while Armitage dug his heels into the floor and pushed his hips up to meet Ben’s movements on the downswing. He laughed, a harsh bark of sound. “You’re steaming.”

“Wha—?”

“You’re steaming, look.” Armitage gently pried Ben’s arm away from his shoulder, brow raised at the tendril of smoky moisture meandering away from his flushed, hot skin in the chilly air inside the car.

Ben smiled, the expression soft and open and his eyes lit up with amusement. He curled and finger and passed it gently up against Armitage’s temple, catching a drop of sweat as it rolled. “You look like you ran a mile.”

They continued, less urgent, until the weight of it all curled tight in Armitage’s belly and warmed his limbs. “Ben, Ben, _Benbenbe-eh-nn._ ”

“Guh-go. Do it. _Hard_.” Ben gripped the sides of the seat, face buried in the crook of Armitage’s neck and legs tense in anticipation. His body jolted with the force of Armitage’s hips.

“ _Fuck!_ Stars, B-eh-en, I _fff—_ I _luh_ — _Ben_.” He lifted his hips off of the seat, gripping handfuls of Ben’s undershirt as he came. Ben’s hands were between them, working himself at a punishing speed with one and steadying himself with the other against Armitage’s stomach. He shuddered and sobbed, mouth wet against Armitage’s jaw and spilling between them.

Armitage watched his pulse beat in the veins of his neck and temple, the rapid rise and fall of his back with his labored breathing. He felt the quivering of muscular legs on either side of him and the silent, moist murmurings against his neck and jaw.

“Ben,” he whispered.

“Just… just a minute.”

“Okay.”

They both jumped, Armitage wincing at the clenching of Ben’s body around his over-sensitive cock, at the hard knock of a set of knuckles against the driver’s side window. “State highway patrol!” Panic rose in Armitage’s chest and he held onto Ben tighter. “You’ve got two minutes to move along!”

They listened to the crunch of boots against gravel, laughing nervously at the thin layer of condensation on the windows and sleek surfaces of the wood finish inside the cockpit.

“Shit, ‘Tige, your clothes.”

“It’s… its fine. It’s fine—just—“

“Yeah.”

“I can’t… I can’t get a ticket.”

“I know.”

Ben clambered back into his seat, hissing and wincing as he wiggled back into his shorts and jeans and tucked himself away.

“There’s tissues on the backseat.” Armitage pulled the condom off, tying the end and looking around hopelessly for someplace to put it, settling on the floor away from his feet for lack of anyplace better. He wiped himself down hastily, dabbing at his sweater and wiping lube off of his hands. He started the car, flashing his lights in acknowledgement of the officer still parked behind them, and easing back onto the empty road. “We can… we can stop at the next gas station. Get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.”

Armitage rested his hand against the gearshift, letting his lips curl into a smile when Ben’s covered it.

They reached their destination within the next two hours, driving then with the flow of early evening traffic. The house that they pulled up to was unassuming, for the most part—it’s slate grey color and scrolling trim unique for the neighborhood but not entirely out of place. The bright red flowers and dark green leaves that decorated the front gave it a fairytale air.

“Nessa?” Ben asked, his eyebrows in the air. Armitage nodded, boyish excitement plain on his features. They bounded up the steps of the front porch and Armitage announced their presence with a succession of quick taps of a heavy antique knocker.

The petite woman who came to the door was both the opposite of and everything that Ben had expected with the title of _bone contact_ and the look of the house. “Armitage!” She grinned widely and ushered them inside. “And who’s this dish?”

“Ben. He’s—Ben.”

“Well, Ben, have a seat while Armie and I hammer out the details, hey?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” She only laughed and directed Ben toward the couch and led Armitage to the dining area of the open-plan room.

Ben sat gingerly, swiping the woolen beanie from his head, his mother’s lessons in manners pinging around in the back of his head. He scanned the room, a mixture of morbid fascination and genuine curiosity piquing his interest at the collections of things hanging on the walls and arranged precisely on the shelves.

“Shit, I haven’t got any bars. Can I use your phone?”

“Yeah, of course.” She jerked her chin toward the portable on the kitchen wall. “Just don’t call Australia, I haven’t got a long distance plan.” She grinned at her own joke. Ben craned his neck, looking all around at what filled the room. “You can look, you know. That’s what it’s there for!”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

Ben rose from his seat on the couch and approached the nearest shelf. There were skulls of all sizes, articulated hands and feet, flat bones arranged artfully. On another shelf rested birds and bats and mice alike cast in lucite or mounted into shadowboxes. On the walls were framed pieces of lace Ben was almost certain were made from hair and abstract art that looked like it might be a mosaic of insect wings. There were colored glass bottles for poisons and medicines and chemicals labeled for use only on the dead, all beautiful and curious with their molded designs and flaking labels. Turning back toward the seating area, he was almost certain the coffee table was a small coffin fitted with a glass top.

“Hello, yes father, it’s me. I apologize for the strange number, I don’t seem to have cellular service here.”

Nessa approached Ben as he bent down to peer more closely at a bit of lace, trying to follow the intricate looping pattern. “Can’t decide of that face you’re making is horrified or fascinated.”

“Both.”

“Then I’ve done my job!” She explained that what he was looking at was, indeed, called _hairwork,_ and showed him the Victorian mourning locket she was wearing with some of the same—a miniscule pattern of loops behind a little glass dome.

“Yes, sir. I am a bit behind schedule. I stopped off to eat and was caught in evening rush-hour when I got back on the road.”

“There’s more stuff in my workspace in the back, if you’d like to look there.” The pair of them frowned, glancing back at Armitage. His shoulders were hunched, one hand clenched into a tight fist at his side, his back to them in the middle of the kitchen.

“Um, yeah, let’s do that.”

Nessa’s workroom was filled with more curiosities. Ben moved slowly around the perimeter, looking at shelves of tools and supplies—springs and screws and hooks and magnifying glasses mounted on stands. “What the hell are those for?” He pointed warily at a fish tank teeming with beetles.

“Oh! Dermestid colony.” She grinned and rocked from toe to heel and back. “They clean the bones. Just finished a skate for a client. Never done one of those before. The look like alien fairies or something.”

“Oh?” He turned, eyes widening just a bit. “And you do… dolls?”

“Yup! I buy them for clients, mostly. You wouldn’t believe how much people will pay or antique porcelain. But I do custom paints and restorations every so often, too.”

Ben moved closer to the table, brushes and paints set out like she’d been working when they arrived. It appeared to be a set, their structures the same but the paint making them appear totally different. The first stood casually, as if waiting for his partner, supported by a stand. Tiny dark marks splashed across his face and arms and his dark hair curled around his forehead and shoulders. Lushly painted pink lips stood out against his pale skin tone.

“This poor guy needs some clothes.”

“Yeah, I just can’t decide how I want to dress him. I either want to go casual hipster or weird space wizard. Not sure which will sell better.”

Ben snorted and moved along the table toward the doll that was actively being painted. His body was still in parts, laid out as if in the order she’d complete them. The eyeless face staring up at Ben from the stand it was mounted on looked eerily familiar. There was a delicate dusting of freckles across the nose, the bottom lip just a touch pouty, the hair was a gradient of oranges and blond and—

“I haven’t decided yet, but I think I’m going to give him sideburns. Those cheekbones need a nice frame.”

“This looks like Armitage.”

Nessa squinted. “It kind of does, doesn’t it?” She perked up at the sound of her name. “Feel free to keep browsing, just don’t handle anything, hey?”

Ben nodded and watched her go then turned his attention back to the dolls on the table. He glanced from one to the other, the eerie feeling only increasing. He knew she’d said not to handle things, _but—_

He picked up the latex glove lying on the table and slipped it over his fingers so he didn’t inadvertently leave any smudges on her work and picked the more completed doll up, holding its face close to the one on the stand.

There was no mistaking the resemblance.

He shivered and set the doll back in its place to join the flesh-and-blood Armitage and Nessa back in the main room.

“What do you mean you haven’t got it here?”

“Well, the owner is kind of an old-timer. Wants to know who exactly the piece is going to. Evidently he’s had it for years, wants to make sure it’s going to a good home.”

“And?”

“And he wants to meet you.”

“You didn’t mention any of this earlier.”

“Well, he only told me today when I went to pick it up. I couldn’t get you on your phone—but I guess since you have no service…”

Armitage frowned, clearly displeased. “I can’t extend my stay. I’m expected back with the car tomorrow night—the next morning at the latest.”

“No problem. We’ll call over there and arrange to meet for lunch, how’s that?”

Armitage chewed his bottom lip and glanced at Ben. He smiled, trying to be reassuring. “Alright. Lunchtime, no later.”

“Did you bring the skull?”

“Yes, Millicent is in the car.”

Nessa laughed softly, “Good, then you can make sure she fits. He’ll probably even mount it for you if he decides your good enough.”

“But the price, he’s settled there, yes?”

“Yup. Like I said, old-timer. Been in the business for decades, knows what he’s selling and what it’s worth. The photos I sent you really don’t even do it justice—really a beautiful piece, hey.”

They chatted for a while longer, the sun dipping below the trees and Ben’s stomach growling loudly to remind them of the time and the fact that they hadn't actually stopped to eat.

“Well then,” Armitage cast an easy smile in Ben’s direction. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“I have plans tonight, actually, but thank you. We can grab something quick before you leave tomorrow, though!”

“That would be lovely.” He rose from his seat, embracing Nessa as she led them to the door. “How difficult is it to get back to the highway from here?”

“What for?”

“There was a Sleep Inn at the last rest stop—“

“Oh gosh, no, nonono—there’s a little bee-and-bee just ten minutes up the road to the left. Stay there.”

“I haven’t got the money for—“

“They’re cheaper than the Sleep Inn, I promise. Free wifi, too. I send all my clients there.”

“They’ll check us in this late in the evening?”

“Of course! Just tell whoever's at the front desk that I sent ya.”

The young man at the front desk looked utterly bored when they arrived. The bed and breakfast looked very much the way they imagined it might—painted in cheery colors with cheerier trim and bright flowers and perfectly shaped shrubbery. There was even a swing on the porch. “Yeah, we got a couple rooms.”

“Well, might we _have one_?”

“Yeah.” The young man checked the big ledger book behind the desk and then took a key from the pegs on the wall behind him. “I just need some ID, from whoever’s payin’. Two beds fine?”

Armitage’s face fell. “Yes, I suppose.”

“We take everything but Discover. Checks require an extra cash deposit on top of the regular fifty. You’ll get it back when it clears.”

“What?” Armitage looked lost, hands fluttering around his pockets after he’d set the box that held Millicent on the counter. “Yes, I’ve got…”

“Visa okay?”

The young man nodded and took Ben’s card and identification. He swiped the card and typed something into the computer with heavy strokes then laid the driver’s license on the scanner, an image of it popping up onto the screen.

“And fifty cash, right?”

“Yeah, you’ll get it back.” Ben put a gentle hand on Armitage’s shoulder, stopping him from fumbling with his wallet, and handed a crisp bill across the counter. “You got luggage to carry?” Ben said that they didn’t and waited expectantly for their key. Armitage took his box back off the counter, holding it protectively. “Alright. I’ll show you upstairs then.” The young man led them to the top floor of the house where the rooms were pitched with the roof. “Bathrooms a Jack-n-Jill, but no body’s stayin’ in the other room, you got the floor to yourself.” He unlocked the door and held it open, allowing the pair of them to pass. “They’re, ah, they’re twins but they’re long. Should be comfortable.” He squeezed through and turned on the bedside lamps. “You just missed dinner but I can bring you up a couple’a sammiches.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Ben looked pointedly at the young man, who promptly left.

Armitage sat down heavily on the edge of the nearest bed. The room was cozy, but certainly not what they’d been hoping for when the idea of a quaint, family-run bed-and-breakfast had been proposed. “I think I would have preferred the Sleep Inn.”

Ben sat beside him, an arm around his waist. “Me too. We’ll manage. It would have been a hassle to get back onto the road to that rest stop anyway.”

“How am I going to explain the lack of hotel charge to the Commandant?”

“Tell him you… stayed with Nessa. Or paid cash. Is cash believable?”

Armitage considered it a moment and then nodded. “Cash.”

“Did I just complicate things?”

“No, no. It’ll be fine. I just have to keep my story straight.”

“He, your dad, he doesn’t check your accounts, does he?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Okay.” He stood, the bed squeaking beneath him with the movement. “Let’s get settled in then. We’ll eat and then go to bed.”

Armitage frowned but nodded, agreeing. He was hanging their clothes for the following day in the closet when the young man who had checked them in returned with a tray of food and bid them good night. Finished eating, Ben put their tray in the hall as instructed. Armitage stretched out on his side on one of the beds, stretching and yawning.

“I had very different notions about how tonight was going to go.”

“Me too.” Ben sat down on the bed opposite and threw the covers back. It was hardly eight o’clock but he was oddly exhausted. He propped himself up on an elbow and watched Armitage flip through television channels distractedly. “”Tige?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m kind of tired. Maybe this is better.”

“Mm.”

“’Tige?” Ben looked over toward the other bed. The channels had stopped changing, settling on a reality show with teams of people trapped on an island. Armitage was drowsing, eyes heavily hooded and remote threatening to fall from his hand. Ben pulled his knees toward his chest, trying to avoid the unpleasant feeling of his feet hanging over the end of the bed and reached over to turn out the bedside lamp.

Ben smiled when Armitage slipped into the shower behind him the following morning.

“Sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” He squeezed past, wetting his hair under the spray and stealing a warm, wet kiss. “I had the strangest dream, though.”

“Oh?”

“Mm. It was us. We’d gone away—far, far away.”

“And?”

Armitage frowned, scrubbing the netted loofa Ben handed him up and down over his arms and chest until his skin glowed pinkly. “You were two people—like two sides of you had split apart, like you couldn’t keep yourself together anymore.”

“Oh.” Ben’s cheeks flushed and his tipped his face into the hot spray of water.

“But it wasn’t all that bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Because two of you was quite fun.”

“Mm?”

Armitage leaned close, pressing his soapy body along Ben’s back. “Two of you on me. In me. Holding me.” Ben gulped, Armitage’s hands circling his waist and creeping down across his pelvis. “Two of you coming, filling me—spilling yourselves across my face.”

“Fuck.”

“And then I woke up.”

“I—you… we, we should plan another road trip.” Armitage laughed and maneuvered them around in the shower. Ben braced his hands against the wall, hot water pounding against his shoulders where Armitage’s body failed to cover his, and melted into the sensation of a hard cock sliding against his cleft and soft hands on his shaft.

He felt jelly-legged as they made their way down the stairs for breakfast promptly at nine.

An older gentleman was already seated at the table, a newspaper folded for reading beside his plate and a steaming cup of coffee in hand. The room was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of a home-cooked meal. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, and coffee all came together in a tendril of scent that pulled them into the dining room and toward the buffet. A woman with silvery hair styled into precise finger waves bustled into the room with a pink bakery box that she set down at the end of the table.

“Good morning gentlemen, I thought I heard my grandson checking someone in last night while we were cleaning up the dinner dishes. You’re certainly early risers! Help yourselves, it’s first-come-first-served.”

They nodded their thanks and elbowed each other affectionately as they filled their plates. The older gentleman, presumably the woman’s husband by the kiss she gave him as she passed, tutted at them and looked over the rim of his glasses. “Don’t be shy, we’re not watching your portions. There’s plenty more for the stragglers.” Ben grinned and added another heaping spoonful of cheesy scrambled eggs to his plate before selecting a seat beside Armitage. “We don’t get many late check-ins. Most people stay down at the Sleep Inn. What are you boys in town for?”

“Just visiting.”

“Got family in town?”

“No, for business, actually.”

“Oh, what are you two in the business of? I would’ve pegged you for honeymooners.” Armitage choked on the sip of thick black coffee he’d taken and Ben thumped him on the back until he recovered enough to swat his hand away. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Not offended,” he coughed. “Just surprised.”

“So you’re not together then? I’m getting rusty. Used to be a detective—had a knack for body language.”

Ben grinned around a mouthful of fried potato, “We are.”

“I hope you didn’t ask for two beds because you thought you’d offend _us,_ then—small town, but not small minded, not around here.”

Ben furrowed his brow. “I thought the room with two beds was the only one available.”

The gentleman clucked his tongue again. “Damn that boy—he was supposed to change the linens in the big room. Should’ve put you in there.” The young man who had checked them in the night before came yawning into the dining room. The gentleman reached back and swatted the back of his head as he passed. “You put these two tall drinks of water in those damn twins?”

“Ow! _Gramps_ ,” he hissed under his breath. “The big room wasn’t ready. That was all that was left.”

“Big room wasn’t ready because you weren’t doing what I pay you for.”

“I had class yesterday, Gramps, I didn’t have time. I’ll do it as soon as I’m done eating.”

“And then you move these gentlemen down there.”

Armitage put up a hand in protest. “That won’t be necessary. We’re hoping to check out this evening.”

The gentleman shook his head. “Check-out’s at noon. You leaving town so soon?”

“I’d hoped. One more night at most, if our business isn’t through.”

The gentleman nodded. “So what kind?”

“’Tige collects skulls,” Ben blurted.

“Ben!” Armitage hissed.

The gentleman laughed, “Are you some of Nessa’s clients?” Armitage nodded hesitantly. “Sweet girl, she sends people up here all the time. I wish she wasn’t so good at what she does, though.” Armitage gave him a questioning look. “Them dolls she tracks down for my wife are taking over my damn house. I’m gonna move in here soon just to get away from them. They give me the heebie jeebies.”

The silvery woman returned with a delicate china cup in her hands. “Well, the dolls and I will be glad to be rid of your sorry behind.” She kissed his cheek, leaving the ghost of a red lip behind, and smiled at Ben and Armitage. “And no _buts_ about it, if you decide to stay another night, we’re moving you down to the big room.” She took a sip of her tea and rested her cheek against her hand. “So what’s Nessa got for you?”

Armitage blushed furiously. “A skeletal articulation, something to complete a piece I already had.”

“Oh! I’ve seen those down at her house. They can be a little scary—but so beautiful! All those tiny bits and pieces? Mother Nature does wonderful things.”

Armitage smiled softly and took another sip of his coffee. “That she does.”

Ben felt as though his knees were in his throat scrunched into the back seat of the Hux family beamer. Nessa sat comfortably in the passenger’s seat, the thick heel on her crossed leg bobbing like a metronome as she directed Armitage through town. They took twisting, turning back roads for thirty minutes until they came upon a quaint farmhouse, a weathered sign at the front of the property proclaiming that it was the home of _APPO & SONS TAXIDERMY _over a cheerful scrollwork carving.

“Appo is about a thousand years old if you look at him and his sons are like clones. It’s kind of uncanny. They’re all in the business, all very good at what they do. Appo is feeling his age though, and he wants to sell off some things—feels like he’s making it easier on the kids. They’d rather he didn’t, but I’ve worked with the family before, so they trust me.”

“In other words, make a good impression so that your business doesn’t suffer.”

“One-hundred-percent correct, Armie.” Armitage grimaced and pulled into the graveled drive beside the main house.

Appo was a shrewd looking man, well dressed and groomed even if he was wrinkled and onion-skinned. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

Armitage cleared his throat and gave him the basics—where he worked, what he studied, the bare-bones story of what brought him to America.

“And why’re you interested in the cat?”

He told Appo about his collection. “I find everything about them fascinating—and beautiful. So many small parts coming together into a cohesive, orderly system. Everything in its place, everything functioning in harmony. And that they house the seat of consciousness, of thought, emotion… an individual’s entire world is held in delicate balance in that one spot and by holding a skull in your hands you are holding that world—or the memory of it.”

Ben was watching him, enraptured. Armitage frowned at him and returned his attention to Appo.

“I like you.”

“You do?”

“What I hear from Nessa, you take care of your collection real well. Make sure everything’s got on the up-and-up. She tells me your cat _was_ a whole set up?”

“Yes, she was. But the person who’d put her together, well, it was early on in their career. They’d bleached it and by the time it came into my hands the skeleton was practically crumbling if you so much as looked at it. The skull was in surprisingly good shape though, so I was able to keep that.”

“You got it with you?”

“I do.” Armitage produced the he shipping box from his bag and opened it up. “I suspect from the lack of bleaching damage and the coloration that the skull might have been from a different specimen at a different time.”

Appo nodded, carefully turning the skull over and over in his hands. “Very nice, very nice.”

“Might I ask why yours is… headless?”

“The grandkids were playing ball in the house.”

“That explains quite a lot.”

Appo grinned and gently placed the skull down on the table. He called for one of his sons, who emerged from a room somewhere deeper in the house wearing an apron--and who was indeed the spitting image of his father. “Can you bring me the cat from the mantle? Mr. Hux here might just have a nice home for her.” The son returned a few minutes later with an articulation mounted on highly polished red wood. The soft white bones had the appearance of being curled comfortably in sleep. “Here we go, now.” Appo carefully fitted the skull against the skeleton. “Well, look at that. I think that’s about a perfect a fit as there could be.”

Ben bit his lip and blushed, utterly taken with Armitage’s delight.

He and Nessa stood back as Appo and Armitage discussed their transaction. The three of them would wait while he mounted the skull properly and gave the whole thing a good cleaning and shined up the base.

“Ah, Nessa?”

“Yes, Ben?”

“Those dolls you were working on—are they for anyone?”

“Not really. I thought I’d list them, but if they didn’t get any bites I wouldn’t mind having them around the house. They make a nice little couple, don’t you think?”

Ben nodded, struck with the eeriness of them again. “How much?” Nessa grinned and gave him a price. “Can you ship them down to the city?”

“I absolutely can. They going to your place or his?”

The following morning, Armitage loaded the box holding a newly-bodied Millicent into the back of the beamer, carefully sandwiching it between his and Ben’s overnight bags on the seat to keep it from sliding around. He’d used the house phone to inform his father that he’d be returning.

_Yes, father, I should be back sometime this afternoon if traffic permits. No, I paid with cash—their prices were quite reasonable and I had it on hand. I didn’t realize you could see my statement. No, sir, I don’t have anything to hide. I was simply unaware. Yes, sir. I’ll check in when I stop off for gas._

“Did you sleep well?” Ben slouched in his seat, a hot paper cup between his thighs and an elastic headband holding back his hair without his woolen cap in place under the warm blast of air from the vents. He smiled contentedly and sank down further against the heated seat, waving amiably to the woman on the porch as Armitage pulled away from the small lot in front of the bed-and-breakfast.

“In that monstrous bed? Absolutely. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much room to spread out before.” He paused at a stop sign at the end of the block and glanced over his shoulder at their cargo. “Some brute snuck in and did a right job of tiring me out—I didn’t even need to take a Valium.” He snorted, amused at himself, and pulled into traffic.

As they drove through the strict grid of the city streets hours later, nearing the end of their journey, Armitage’s face creased deeply. He glanced in the back as he’d developed a habit of doing each time he heard something shift.

“He’ll ask why you’re with me. I don’t want to go back.”

Staring straight ahead, he did nothing to move his hand away from the gearshift when Ben placed his own over it.

**Author's Note:**

> Brendol sees relationships not as a romantic thing or having to do with free-will and personal choice, but as an an opportunity and obligation to form strategic alliances. As such, he expects Armitage to conform to that idea. It does not matter to him what the gender of the other half of the relationship is, only that it presents some kind of advantage. Initially unwilling to talk about this, Armitage causes Ben to believe that their relationship is a secret because Brendol does not approve of his sexuality and an argument ensues. Armitage briefly describes a few early relationships, one with a girl and two with other men, and expresses his bisexuality.
> 
> As in the previous story in this series, Millicent is a feline skeletal specimen. Armitage currently is only in possession of a skull (he collects them) and is going to purchase a skeleton to match. All bones mentioned are ethically sourced and are from professional taxidermists or are vintage medical specimens and teaching models. The people Benarmie go to meet also have collections that are briefly described.
> 
> There is no actual bukkae scene, which is why it's not tagged as such. Armitage briefly describes a strange dream with a sexual element involving what he perceives as more than one person. Ah, the symbolism.


End file.
